


Collection of prompt fills

by Hino_Hatari



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Minions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hino_Hatari/pseuds/Hino_Hatari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of prompt fills from my Tumblr, ranging from 00Q to JAQ and everything in between (see tags)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 001

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by anon: "Would love to read some angsty JAQ regarding unrequited love. Maybe James is in love with Q but Q and Alec are a couple. Just something angsty"
> 
> My tumblr is: j-a-qfills.tumblr.com if you want to post your prompts.

James had started noticing it six months after Q was appointed as Quartermaster. The little smiles, the little glances, and even just the way Q ran his hand through his hair when he was in the middle of a tricky problem that no field agent could solve but only his talented — deliciously long — fingers.

James Bond wasn’t the kind of man who had crushes. Like in everything in his life, even his feelings were all edges and extremes. He didn’t crush in love, instead, he fell completely, irremediably and limitlessly in love. It always took its time but when it was there, it was so strong and powerful that it was hard for him to ignore it.

Bond didn’t know however if he should act on it or not. He usually just came, took and never glanced back. Veni, vidi, vici. But this time, he couldn’t just allow himself to ravish his Quartermaster, for the mere reason that he was the quartermaster and M would have him hanged before that happened. So Bond spent his time lurking around Q-Branch, like a bored tiger, surveilling his prey without ever approaching too close.

Q noticed. Q always noticed, because he was smart like that.

"Don’t you have a brainless woman to shag or even laundry to do, 007? Anything to get you out of my sight?" Q asked, keeping his eyes on his screen as his fingers kept typing away frantically, as fast as Bond would pull the trigger.

"Women aren’t my area, currently." Bond answered simply, sincerely though he had that smirked on his face that showed he was extra proud of himself.

Q stopped typing and looked up briefly, just for a flick of a second, before his eyes returned to the screen.

"A brainless man, then." Q just said. Bond had caught the mild surprise in his eyes though, and he supposed that it was a good thing. 

"You are everything but brainless, Q." Bond purred, puffing his chest unconsciously and mentally patting himself on the back. That was smooth. And Q had offered it to him on a silver plater, with champagne.

It took Q an entire second to stiffen completely and his fingers stopped typing and this time, when he looked at Bond, it lasted an eternity. 

James fidgeted. 

James had never fidgeted before.

He was usually good at reading people’s reactions, at reading them in general, but Q had always been a bit different, a bit too new and too young, and right now, Bond couldn’t read what he thought. And it made him incredibly nervous. 

It wasn’t like asking a target for dinner. This was Q. If he didn’t accept his advances, James would either be more persistent and convincing or this would turn into a very awkward situation for them to work around. Or into a sexual harassment lawsuit too. M would definitely hang him for that.

James didn’t break the eye contact however, but he didn’t breathe anymore. Why wasn’t Q saying anything? Was he weighing his options? Was he just bugging, like one of his laptops?

"Ah, there you are! I thought you were in your office." A voice, far too cheerful and far too familiar, cut the scene. Bond knew that voice more than anyone.

Alec.

"Are we still okay for dinner tonight?" The Russian continued, completely missing the fact that that should have been Bond’s line. James was petrified and Q was still staring at him without a word.

Alec came and pressed a kiss on the corner of Q’s lips and then looked at James. “James,” he greeted politely, “I didn’t know you were back from Venezuela.”

Bond shook his head briefly, almost unnoticeably, and shook Q away from his mind at the same time to allow himself a smile. “A couple of days ago.” He said, colder than he intended. “I have an appointment with Moneypenny.” He said quickly and managed to fake another smile before turning away and leaving, the last thing he saw of Q was his apologetic eyes, and his contrite smile.

Q and Alec.

Alec and Q.

Who would have thought? 

He had been in Venezuela for three weeks and now this. 

Q had chosen Alec. Wasn’t James a better option? 

Hearts were strong muscles that didn’t actually shatter, but he could swear he just heard — and felt — his literally breaking into tiny million pieces.

It was for the best, he thought, as he reached the elevator.

Another one that wouldn’t die on him, at least.


	2. 002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Anon: We usually see James chasing after Q, how about something like How Q Won the Heart of 007 or something like that!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is: j-a-qfills.tumblr.com if you want to post your prompts.

There was something about James Bond that Q couldn’t quite figure out yet and if there was something that Q hated about anything, it was not understanding.

Q was all analytical mind, rationality over emotions and impulses. Q liked things he could count and things he could understand and rationalize. He liked numbers and equations and thrived in implacable logic.

He understood the science of infatuation as a chemical process designed to serve and perpetuate the social contract and, on a grander scale, the survival of humanity. He couldn’t understand however how he and Bond together could, in any way, contribute to the survival of humanity. Bond contributed more to the explosion of various and random facilities than anything else, really.

And yet, here Q was, completely infatuated with one James Bond.

At first, the most rational thing to do was to ignore it, as Q had assumed that office policies forbid them to have anything more than a professional relationship, but when Eve Moneypenny started dating Alec Trevelyan, and Q actually looked into said office policies, he understood that there was no such thing, as long as they reported the relationship to HR.

So much for his promising career in espionage.

When Q-Branch fell silent for a second, a mini-second that most people wouldn’t have noticed but Q did because this was his territory and he knew his minions very well, he looked up and sighed a bit when he saw the reason of all his sleepless nights making his way to him, walking as if the place belonged to him and they, mere mortals, should acknowledge his superiority.

"I have the radio back." Bond announced, proud of himself, that punchable sung smirk on his face.

"I sent you with an umpteenth PPK, an emergency med-kit, a new priceless phone and a radio, and all you brought back is the latter?" Q couldn’t even manage to be angry anymore. Bond did this every single time, and he didn’t know why he was still surprised by the agent’s utter lack of consideration for his tech.

"I brought myself back too, you know. In case you haven’t noticed." 

"My tech is worth an entire year of your pay, Bond." Q snapped back even though a good chunk of his heart thanked any deity that was listening that indeed, Bond was back. Whole and alive. Q’s eyes studied the man for a moment and then he pointed at his desk. "Leave the radio here and go away. You lower the IQ of the entire branch." 

He even allowed himself to make a shooing motion with his hand.

Bond managed to actually look affected but Q knew it was all pretense. “See you around, quartermaster.” The blonde just said and left, the radio resting in peace on Q’s desk.

 _Half_ of the radio.

Dammit, Bond.

Q picked up the poor little thing and there was another moment of silence in Q-Branch as they all mourned the loss of thousands of pounds of tech.

"Back to work everyone." Q interrupted then, a few seconds later and threw the useless radio into the bin.

_

The next time he encountered Bond was a day later, in the MI6 garage. Q had a lab coat on, protective glasses and gloves, as they were actually doing science. 

He was accompanied by many minions, gravitating around him like planets around a star. Most of them weren’t here for the actual experiment in itself, but they just liked watching things doing what they weren’t supposed to do, and wear lab coats because they didn’t have enough occasions to do that. 

They actually looked like grown-ups.

"Why are you lot looking like five year old children playing with their first chemistry kit?" A voice asked and Q froze before turning to Bond. Of course it was Bond. Q completely chose to ignore how his heart had skipped a beat.

"What are you doing here?" Q asked, frowning a bit and walking up to face the face the agent, his minions discreetly moving to stand behind him, out of fear — they would never admit it — and also out of self-preservation. Maybe a little percentage of it was to back up their overlord a bit.

"You are wearing a lab coat." Bond grinned, an amused gleam in his eyes that Q mistook for condescendence. 

"And you aren’t. You shouldn’t be here. This thing might explode and you are not protected."

Leave it to scientists to think that lab coats and a pair of goggles would protect them from an explosion, Bond thought.

"I like explosions. I’m staying." He declared.

Q was about to protest when a courageous — or suicidal — minion came forward and offered Bond a lab coat. Bond looked at it and then shrugged a bit before taking it and putting it on. He supposed that for the minions, this must be a token of acceptance, or of peace. Or maybe they were just very excited for the explosion and knew that more arguments between Q and Bond would delay the festivities. Q let it slide.

"Alright everyone. Take a few steps back. Six meters back, in fact." Q said, turning around and shooing his people away.

Q did love explosions too, as long as they were in a controlled environment. Not that the garage of MI6 was a particularly safe environment but M had more or less agreed to this and Q knew there was no real danger. The tank of the car was empty after all, and they had made calculations.

Bond stood close to him, and Q could smell his cologne, strong and masculine like the man himself. 

He fished the remote from the pocket of his lab coat.

"Are you ready everyone? Three. Two. One …"

Q pressed on the button and he heard the car explode as predicted but his eyes were on something else entirely.

Bond was smiling, the flames of the explosion dancing in the blue of his eyes, his smile the most sincere one Q had ever seen on him and Q’s heart exploded.

_

A week went on before he saw Bond again. But a lot happened in a week.

First, Trevelyan and Moneypenny made it official at the HR and they became the talk of the entire SIS. 

Then, Q got sick and had to spend a night off at home. His flat was small and he was miserable and mostly, he felt lonely.

When he got a bit better, the next day, he came to work only to find out that a lot of his minions were now coming out and dared ask each other for a date once they knew that Trevelyan and Moneypenny got away with it. It felt too much like inbreeding for Q. But the entire branch seemed happy and was floating on a little sugarcoated cloud of love and declarations of love and it made Q murderous for the rest of the week.

Q poured some tea in his mug and took a long sip of it to calm his nerves and tell himself that just because everyone else was doing it, that didn’t mean he should also do it. The stupidity of the mass didn’t mean collective intelligence at all.

He made his way back to his office but between the break room and the Q-Branch, there was the gym. And the gym had floor to ceiling windows and the occupant of it was 007. Half naked. Lifting weights that Q was sure was double his own.

He drank the rest of the mug.

Maybe he could …

No.

That was insane.

But …

Before he even realized it, he had already pushed the door and was inside the gym. Bond looked up and raised a blonde eyebrow. “That’s a sight we’ve never dreamt to see. The Quartermaster at the gym.” Bond snickered.

Said Quartermaster was trying hard not to look at Bond’s sweaty, muscular torso and instead brought his mug to his lips to have more tea but there was none anymore. Not that Bond needed to know that.

"I was just wondering if your stupid arse … and the rest of your body as well, would be amenable to have dinner with me tomorrow night." Q blurted out, simply, straight-forwardly and matter-of-factly.

Bond stared at him for some time and then smiled.

"Thought you’d never ask."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it anon. I don’t know if this is good for you. If it’s not, I can write you something else?
> 
> Anyway, I had good fun writing this.
> 
> Fuck now I’m re-reading your prompt and I realized it’s not exactly what you said. I should probably re-write this. I’m so sorry. If you don’t like, I’ll write something else. Dammit. I always get carried away when I write. Sorry.


	3. 003

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Anon: OMG PLEASE continue that fic where james has a crush on Q but Q and Alec are together. Maybe one ending with JAQ ? :'D
> 
> This is a continuation of the chapter 1 of this collection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt me here: j-a-qfills.tumblr.com
> 
> (Usually filled within 48 hours unless I'm exceptionally busy)

It had been eight days. Q had counted. Eight days since Bond had come to him that evening and kind of declared his infatuation with him — Q didn’t believe it was love because he wasn’t completely sure if someone like 007 could love someone like him. And yet, since then, he had never seen Bond again.

Bond never came to HQ in between his missions unless he really had to, so Q liked to think that he wasn’t coming over for that reason, because thinking that Bond was avoiding him hurt in unexpected ways. 

Q hadn’t tried to contact him. He was still confused about the entire ordeal, to be honest. And what would he say anyway? Hey, Bond, you fancy me but we can’t do this, let’s be friends again? Even in his head, it sounded terrible.

"What are you thinking about?" Alec mumbled and then draped himself over him, his strong, heavy arm going over Q’s torso and pulling him against his naked chest.

Q felt guilty. He hadn’t stopped thinking of Bond since, even when he shouldn’t. Alec was just here, naked after their fantastic round of sex, but there was always that little thought of Bond that buggered him, that made him feel not only guilty but really bad about himself, and somehow, angry. He didn’t blame any of it on Alec, of course. He actually … well, he was very attached to Alec, in ways that he didn’t dare to put a name on yet.

"Nothing." Q lied and turned to him, his vision blurred by the lack of glasses, and all he could see was the halo of the chandelier blurring the edges of Alec’s handsome face even more. Q reached up to touch, to feel the agents’ skin under his fingers, so warm, so real. He smiled and let Alec drag him into a feverish kiss, the kind of kiss one had after fantastic rounds of sex.

_

Bond decided to go on a little vacation on his own. He had cumulated enough unused days off anyway, so when he had told M that he would be gone for a fortnight, M didn’t see any objection to it. In fact, she would rather have him being useless on a vacation where the only damage he could make would be to his liver, rather than lurk around HQ unnecessarily, scaring the poor interns and distracting everyone around him. 

Bond decided to rent a yacht and sail on his own around the Mediterranean sea. He had always been a lone wolf, and he had always liked solitary activities, and sailing was perfect. It allowed him to forget about the gruesome weather in London and to escape the painful reality of Alec and Q.

Alec and he had always been very close, and James almost considered this as a betrayal. But they weren’t teenagers anymore, who would pout, sulk and then make a scene about such things. Bond had never told Alec about his interest in Q, and Alec hadn’t felt it necessary to share the news with him. Bond understood why, of course. But still, it stung.

The Mediterranean sea in itself was a thing of beauty. Warm, blue water stretching between three continents, and James could go anywhere on land, he knew that the various cultures would always surprise him. He was a well-travelled man, but he liked to still be amazed at the diversity of humanity.

He stopped in Greece, on a small, beautiful island in the Aegean Sea. He got a hotel room, and through the course of the night, someone to share it with.

_

"You’ve been very distracted lately. Are you planning to build me a new customized car?" Alec had been asking for a new car for a long time now, but Q always denied him with persistence. "You can even make it hybrid. I’d forgive you." 

"I’m not giving you a new car, Alec. We don’t have the budget." Q rolled his eyes but there was always that touch of fondness in his voice when he talked to him. Alec sighed as dramatically as he could — he could win an Oscar just for that — and slumped on the couch in Q’s office.

"Why are you distracted then? Are you thinking about me naked? You just need to ask, you know." He flickered his eyebrows suggestively, which made Q smile.

"Not everything in the world is about you, Trevelyan." Q pushed his office chair back, rolling until he reached a set of drawers from which he took out a few documents. Alec was off duty for some time, but he knew that he would get dispatched again soon enough. He was meant to do paperwork but who the hell did paperwork, huh? Right, the paperwork people.

"What is everything in the world about then?" He got up from the couch and approached Q’s desk, his face predatory and even his walk turned tiger-like, slow but impressive and graceful. He had been observing Q for the last few days, and if at first, it had him worried how distracted and quieter Q became, when he found out why, he had been trying to get Q to confess since. But Q was always evasive, and Alec was tired of this little game. He had enough little games of power play in his professional life, he didn’t want any more of that in his personal life as well. He leaned a bit on the desk, his hands supporting his weight, "James Bond, maybe?"

_

They had talked it out. Alec had given him no choice on the matter. Q had tried to shove him away, or even run out of his office but Alec, bigger than him, easily stopped him — but not before Q managed to punch him a couple of times.

Q wasn’t the kind to talk about feelings. They were personal, intimate and entirely his own business. He had never told Alec what he felt for him and he didn’t want to, because no word could express with accuracy what he felt for Alec. He would need to write an entire essay if he really had to say something about it.

But Alec had cornered him and forced him to talk it out. To Alec’s credit, he was very good at interrogations. Q had made a little note in his 006 file about that.

At least, Q now felt like some burden, some weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He looked at himself in the mirror of his bathroom and sighed. Alec had cornered him in his own office three days ago, and Bond would be back from wherever he had been today. Alec would pick him up. Not that Bond knew.

_

Bond had left the yacht in Spain. He hadn’t been his anyway, just rented. And earlier today, he had taken a flight back to London. He would go on a sensitive mission to Lebanon in a couple of days.

The holidays had helped his body relax, and mostly, helped him rationalize the fact that he wasn’t with Q. That he would never be with Q. He wouldn’t say that he got over it, but he compartmentalized it away so that it wouldn’t interfere with his professional relationship with his quartermaster.

The plane arrived at Heathrow in the afternoon and he quietly cursed the London weather. It had all been sunshine and warmth around the Mediterranean sea and as soon as he set foot in London, rain welcomed him. Good old England.

He passed the security checks but as he made his way to the parking lot, he felt that too familiar sensation of being watched. And Bond’s instincts were never wrong about that. He was being watched and followed.

He couldn’t create a scene here, however, in the middle of an airport. M would hate that.

Bond walked faster, his mind running the potential usual suspects. He didn’t look behind him, as that would alert his stalker that he knew.

He soon reached his car and frowned when he noticed that just next to his DB9 was a Porsche 911, red, with the license plate belonging only to one person.

_

"Jesus, you’re paranoid." Alec said loud enough to make himself heard as he walked up to his own car, parked next to James. He wouldn’t say that it hadn’t been fun though. Alec liked playing cat and mouse and James was a very good mouse.

"My name is James but Jesus could work too. And you’re an arsehole." Bond answered before turning to see him. 

"That’s a big word, James. Careful, Mummy will scold us."

"I won’t tell if you don’t." James smiled but Alec could see some sort of bitterness in his eyes, now that he was close enough. He knew that James felt betrayed. Alec would have felt the same if their positions were inverted. 

Alec wondered if he should approach the subject now, before the friendship he had with James — who was actually his only friend, which was why he was also the best — shattered and only left scars and burning resentment between them.

"Here’s something I won’t tell if you don’t, James." Alec started, his face turning serious and he leaned against his own car. "You slept with five different women in fifteen days. I know. It’s my job to know, because it’s my job to protect Q. You fucking told him you liked him but you can’t even keep your pants on yourself around other people. So either you’re bullshitting us and yourself, or you got over it. However, here’s the deal. We could share him. But only if you tell me you’re going to be serious about this, about him. I won’t let you hurt him, James."

_

They should have been here by now. Alec and he had agreed that if Bond accepted their little arrangement, Alec would bring him here, otherwise, Bond would go to HQ for debriefing.

Q didn’t like lateness, and he didn’t like uncertainty. He was extremely nervous and was drinking his fifth mug of tea. He hadn’t called in to HQ yet to know if Bond had checked in.

What if Bond didn’t accept? This would make everything a thousand times more awkward. 

Q wanted him to accept. He didn’t like James as much as he liked Alec yet, but he knew it would come with a bit of time. He knew that he wanted him though; not out of pity for the other day, but because he was James, and behind the pretenses, the masks and the macho demeanor, he knew that James was a good man. And damn if he wasn’t hot.

Q wanted to give it a try, he wanted to have with James what he already had with Alec. To share something that could be really great if they all worked it out.

He heard the bell and Q jumped from the couch. His heart was pounding too hard in his chest and he hated the fact that his hand was trembling. He almost ran to the door.

He took a big breath and opened the door.

"Q." James purred, as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi anon! 
> 
> So, if you expected smut, I’m so sorry. But to my defense, this did evolve into a JAQ like you asked and this is a direct continuation to the first one.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it.
> 
> See you around, hopefully.


	4. 004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Fusterya: Please please please give me the first date with all the right things in the rigth place: the finest restaurant, the moon and the stars, maybe even a ride on the Thames (or wherever you want), and Q blushing and babbling, and Bond like the perfect specimen of chivalry and oh so sincerly in love. Make it so romantic that I could start throwing up cotton candy! Pleeeeease! I need all the OOC romance in the world.

Bond picked him up in a dinner jacket. 

Q had never seen him in a dinner jacket before and it does things to him, stirring desire and lust from deep inside that he would rather ignore at the moment. People shagged after a date, not before. Not that he was already considering shagging Bond anyway, it was just their first date.

Q had no idea how this was going to be. Bond had asked him for dinner for the twenty-sixth time a couple of days ago and since Q had spent half of the year denying him, he finally agreed this time. Not that he didn’t like the agent, but he was merely afraid that Bond didn’t like him as much as he liked Bond. It might sound cliché, and a bit naive from him, but he didn’t want to be another one on the long list of James Bond’s conquests.

 

”Are you coming?” Bond asked, looking up at him, having opened the door on the passenger’s side for Q, who was stuck at his door, staring at the man and the beautiful Aston Martin. 

Bond picked him up in a dinner jacket. Q was wearing a cashmere blue cardigan.

”Are you overdressed or am I underdressed?” Q asked. What if Bond took him to one of those fancy restaurants? Q didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

”You are exquisite, Q.” Bond answered with a sincere smile. Not one of those side smirks that was designed to make women fall at his feet, but a genuine one, designed to make Q’s heart skip a beat and believe the man. He took a few more seconds to stop his blush before walking down the few steps that separated him from the car and got inside. Bond joined him on the other side a few seconds later.

Q wasn’t the impressionable kind. He did hate privilege, mainly because he came from privilege. He had seen it all, the fine restaurants, the operas and front row seats in theatres, the boarding schools and best universities. Q knew posh. Q spoke posh. It had been one of the reasons why he hadn’t wanted to have dinner with Bond. If Bond was going to be like all of his previous boyfriends and try to impress him by taking him to a fancy restaurant and talk about art to him, then it wouldn’t work.

Q was an intellectual, however. He liked fine conversations, but despite his background, he was a rather simple man. He took the tube every morning and evening, he grabbed takeaways from the Indian place down the road on his way, and he volunteered at the local kitchen whenever he had time. 

The night had fallen on London several hours ago and it wasn’t the typical time people went on date at. It was already late, and the streets of London were emptier, in default of being completely deserted. It wasn’t particularly warm outside, but the temperatures of late summer had lingered through the entire month of October, the occasional breeze was chilling the atmosphere every now and then.

He glanced at Bond. He looked much younger now that he was not only shaved but also more relaxed and definitely slept better. Q still noticed the unshakable military posture, the fact that Bond was never entirely relaxed, the way his eyes were still surveilling everything around him even as he drove. But the man had always had some sort of undeniable charisma and unforgettable charm about him. He was confident, sometimes overly so, and that brought anyone to trust him immediately. ”You are staring.” Bond remarked and Q blushed a bit again before looking away.

They fell into quietness again. Not the kind of awkward, nervous silence that would usually make Q squirm and babble — that kind of anxiety that had made him babble in front of the painting at the National Gallery on the day they met — but a comfortable, safe silence. Q had stopped being impressed or terrified of Bond, and started respecting him and feeling safe around him.

”Where are you taking me then?” He asked after a little while.

”Here.” Bond said, and stopped the car. It hadn’t been a long ride at all and they had stopped by the river. There was a small Italian pizzeria on the side of the road and that had Q frowning a bit.

”Here?” He echoed, confused.

”Best pizza in the city.” Bond said and got out of the car.

Q didn’t understand. 

Bond was wearing a dinner jacket … for pizza? Bond was taking him on a date in a small, empty pizzeria?

”You have to be kidding me.” Q sighed and got out of the car as Bond opened the door for him.

Not that Q didn’t like pizza. It was one of his favourite food. But he hadn’t expected this, to be honest. Saying that he was surprised would be an understatement. 

They made their way inside. The place was empty and dimly lit and pleasantly warm. However, there were rose petals all over the white tiled floor and there was only a single table at the centre, round with a white tablecloth, already set, a single rose in a small vase in the middle. Q could hear a bit of music, faintly. It all felt so intimate and a bit surreal. It hit all the right spots in Q’s idea of intimacy.

This wasn’t a random choice of restaurant, but a personal statement. Bond hadn’t taken him to an overpriced, cliché fancy restaurant where they would be surrounded by people who pretended to be classy in the hope to get laid tonight. Bond was showing him something more personal, more authentic and simple, while at the same time, incredibly considerate.

And Bond was already drawing out a chair for him and Q came and sat.

”I have to admit this is … unexpected.” Q whispered, as if he were afraid to break the comfortable silence between them. Bond was looking at him, staring, his eyes even bluer than usual, and there was something in there that Q couldn’t quite define.

”I endeavour to surprise you, Q.” Bond was purring his name again. He always did that, even on their first meeting. Q was supposed to be just a code name, a position and a job, but in Bond’s mouth, it sounded like he was the most important person in the world, as if it was the only word Bond knew and cared for. That was what was in Bond’s eyes, Q realized. Care. Deep fondness and affection.

Q blushed.

”I thought you were fond of fine dining.” Q tried again to divert Bond’s attention but he knew that Bond hadn’t missed the blush. He had that amused, smug smirk on his lips again. He was positively handsome when he did that, Q thought.

”Just because it’s not a French restaurant with weird names on the menu doesn’t mean it isn’t just as good or even better.” James did like fine dining, but mostly, he liked the best food he could get, and sometimes you had better food in small, authentic places like this than in top TripAdvisor reviewed restaurants. Q seemed to acknowledge that with a tilt of his head.

The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a skinny, longline man from what Q assumed was the kitchen door. ”Buona sera!” He greeted cheerfully.

Q couldn’t help but smile, as the man’s cheerfulness seemed contagious, and his wrinkled face gave away something warm and familiar. He was holding two medium sized plates with a pizza on each and then came to put them in front of each of them. ”Buona sera, Alfred.” Bond greeted him back.

Q didn’t speak Italian but his knowledge of Latin and other Latin-rooted languages — he was fluent in French, Spanish and Portuguese — helped him understand most of the little conversation Bond engaged with the man.

Alfred turned to him, a knowing smile on his face. ”Very, very cute, James.” Alfred said with a heavy Italian accent. Q had the decency to blush and look away, focusing on the pizza in front of him. It did look delicious, and the cheese was melting, glistening under the light, watering Q’s mouth in advance. And it did smell like it looked, inviting.

”I leave you two love birds now. I take the wine and a bit of salad.” Alfred said, amused by Q’s evasion before leaving the room.

”An old friend.” Bond said once he left. ”Used to be in the mafia, helped me on a couple of missions in Italy before I helped him get away and build this place.” He explained. 

This explained that, Q thought. It was why he had brought Q here. Not that he minded much. In fact, so far, it was the most charming date he had ever had, considering that Q had been dined in the finest places of London so far.

”Do you always build pizzerias for the people you help on missions?” Q teased. He knew for a fact that despite the darkness and danger that surrounded Bond, and despite his obvious lone wolf personality, Bond was a good man deep inside. He had strong values of honor and respect, and Q liked him for that. Q liked men like Bond. He had known since he had first laid eyes on Bond’s file that the man was totally his type.

”No. Sometimes I buy them an island too.” Bond shrugged. Q didn’t know either it was serious or not. That was something infuriating with Bond; he was a serious man, that was for sure, but with a wonderful sense of humor but sometimes, he said things like that, sometimes innuendos sometimes not, that were absolutely confusing for Q. Was it sarcasm, or was it not? Q had the habit of tilting his head to the side when he was confused. ”I might have bought an island for someone once, Q. Would you like one?” He asked as if he were talking about getting fish and chips from a local pub.

Alfred came back.

”Montepulciano.” Alfred announced, and then poured the wine in their glasses. Q had to admit that he had a fondness for wine, and good whiskey. Of course, he liked tea the most and drank more tea than the average English person but after work, when he came home, he did enjoy a glass of alcohol. Alfred also left a bowl of salad in the middle of the table before wishing them a good time and left again.

”Have you ever been to Italy?” Bond asked, inviting Q to eat with a gesture of his hand as he himself picked up his fork and knife and started cutting into his pizza.

”Once, when I was young. We visited Rome and Florence. I was a terrible child, I have to admit,” Q chuckled, ”I sulked all the way because it was far too warm and I don’t tan; I became reddish instead.”

”Like when you blush. You are adorable when you blush.” Bond smiled and watched with some sort of amused fascination as Q, indeed, blushed again. ”That’s what I’m talking about.”

”Are you mocking me, Bond?” Q ate his first bite of pizza and then rolled his eyes. ”Oh, this is good.”

Bond just smiled again, something tinted with genuine fondness that made Q blush even more.

Q wasn’t prude or innocent as people liked to think he was. He wasn’t modest either. But the sincerity and honesty in James’ compliments, the fondness and affection in his eyes, the insistance of his focus on him all made Q blush like a high school teenager on his first date. Q had been the subject of a lot of courting before, but no one had ever been as open as James, as honest and genuine. 

Q hid his face behind his glass of wine, taking a large sip. 

In a professional environment, it was so easy to be around Bond. He was a true professional, thorough, dedicated and as much of an workaholic as Q was, and they had the kind of chemistry and synchronicity that made their missions successful, if not a bit spicy every now and then — though Bond’s ratio of explosions and casualties per mission decreased significantly once Q started being his handler.

But on a personal matter, Bond’s focus on him made Q a bit uncomfortable and at the same time, made his heart clench and jump and beat faster and all sorts of things that Q was sure hearts weren’t supposed to do. Q wasn’t used to that sort of affection and undivided attention. It was unsettling and at the same time, highly addictive.

”I like the wine.” He knew very much at that time what was going on. Every time he felt anxious and uncomfortable, Q babbled. Embarrassingly so. And there were always warnings in his head, telling him to stop, but his mouth just went on and made him sound like the pretentious boarding school educated prick that he tried so much to avoid. ”It has quite a syrupy mouthfeel to it, don’t you think?” Q picked up the glass again and smelled the wine. ”A bit aromatic, as well. However, it’s an excellent choice with pizza. It brings out the flavour of —”

”Q, relax.” Bond cut, chuckling a bit. He had noticed it. It wasn’t the first time Q did this to him or that Bond heard him doing this to people. Bond was an expert at reading people, and he had noticed how Q always babbled when he was nervous. It was charming, in many ways, and very endearing. Bond reached and took the glass from Q’s hand before taking the hand itself. ”You are fine. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable in any way.” 

Q stared at him, his head tilted, from several long seconds before he nodded. ”I’m sorry. It just … comes out.” He looked at their joined hands and bit his lip, trying desperately not to blush again. He wasn’t one to blush usually, but that seemed like his new default setting when he was with Bond, and it was just embarrassing. 

Bond let go of his hand, sparing him more discomfort.

For a little moment, they ate in silence, even though Bond’s eyes were still on Q, devouring every single detail he could get from Q, from the way he frowned, the way his lips pursed into a pout every now and then, and how he cut his pizza in really small pieces.

”So, would you like to tell me more about the wine?” Bond asked gently.

Q looked up at him and pushed his glasses back up on his nose before smiling. Usually, people didn’t ask him about stuff, thinking that he was just an arrogant jerk, but Q just liked sharing knowledge. He was all for freedom of information and knowledge and was very active on online communities of open sources and Wikis, Quora and anything else where he could share and exchange knowledge with people.

And Bond had to admit that he loved that smile. It was rare to see Q smile at work. He was always so serious and professional, but this side of Q, a bit child-like, more innocent and playful was something that Bond deeply treasured. Listening to Q was easy, not only because he had a good voice, but he had passion in him that just made you know that he wasn’t saying all those stuff to show that he had a superior knowledge, but because he was actually passionate about it. And he always asked people’s opinion when he was done and mostly, he listened. Not because it was polite to do so, but because he really wanted to know people’s opinions.

Bond had known from the very first second that a conversation with Q was not only intellectually stimulating, but also very entertaining. He was serious but never took himself too seriously. He had great humour, sharp wit, and a very open mind.

They talked about wine, and Italy, and the South of France. They talked about how Q really couldn’t tan, and how Bond hated the cold. Bond made a few jokes and Q laughed, now completely relaxed. They conversed about boats, about fishing, and Bond even told him a bit about his childhood, when he went to hunt and fish in Scotland, and Q tried a Scottish accent that got both of them laughing for minutes.

Q discovered that Bond was very skilled at conversations. He was extremely smart, but he wasn’t an arse about it. He was unlike Q’s previous dates, those college educated City boys, or lawyers and God knows what, who were eager to show how cultured they were, too fond of talking and failing at listening. Bond listened. A lot. He picked up the words Q said, and the words Q didn’t say. 

Through it all, the wine made Q relax even more, opened doors in him that he never had with anyone else.

When they both finished their pizzas, and the bottle of wine was nearly empty, Bond suggested they left.

”But, isn’t there dessert?” Q asked, looking positively disappointed. He had a sweet tooth.

”There is. But not here.” Bond said and got up. He went to the kitchen door and opened it. ”Grazie mille, Alfred. Dobbiamo lasciare ora. Arrivederci.” Bond said and Q didn’t really hear what Alfred responded but a minute later, they were out of the door.

”Best pizza I’ve ever had.” Q agreed, taking his time to take a long breath and then looked up at the sky. It was clear of any cloud and he could even see a few stars, which was quite rare in London. It wasn’t too chilly, but Q still shivered. Bond made his way to the car and opened the back seat before taking out a coat of his and came back to wrap it around Q’s shoulders.

”I’m not a damsel in distress, Bond. You didn’t have to.” Q chuckled.

”This is why chivalry is dead, Q. People are so eager to be independent nowadays that they feel offended over little gestures of genuine kindness and care.”

Q considered that for a moment. Bond was old fashioned. A dinosaur, really. He was a perfect gentleman, with an occasional spark of arsehole-ness, but he never underestimated anyone. He could be a misogynistic git sometimes, but Q understood that he never did things because he thought you couldn’t do them, but because James really cared about the people around him. Yes, on the job, he did use people as tools, most of the time for his own pleasure and not really for Queen and country, but behind all of that, James just cared. A lot.

”So you care, 007?” Q smirked a bit and this time, he was glad to see that Bond was the one to blush slightly.

”Yes,” came the brutally honest answer and this time, it was Q’s turn to be surprised. He had known it, but there was a difference between knowing it and being told about it in such a blunt way.

”I — I thought we were getting dessert?” Q looked away, turning his head. That was when he caught the faint cologne of James Bond on the coat. It caught him off guard. It was so subtle, certainly meant to seduce but at the same time, designed to comfort. It was Bond, in all his glory. And Q couldn’t get enough of it. He supposed he looked quite like a lunatic, taking big breaths.

”Are you okay?” Bond asked, frowning at how Q seemed to breathe faster and deeper suddenly.

”I’ve never been more okay, James.” Q answered, his voice softer than Bond had ever heard. 

Bond just stared at him but then smiled. ”Dessert is this way.” He nodded to the right and crossed the road, Q following closely behind him, his hands in the pocket of the soft coat.

They arrived by the very shore of the Thames, the lights from the lampposts and buildings reflecting in it beautifully, and they fell again into comfortable silence, just enjoying not having to prevent World War 3 but just relax and be with each other, without any pressure.

London was so quiet already, and there was no one around, just them. And Q knew he didn’t want to be anywhere else. He wanted now to last forever, but the beauty of the moment itself was about how it was fleeting and ephemeral, something to live and not something to catch.

”There.” Bond interrupted Q’s thoughts, pointing at a little van. A waffle van, Q recognised. At this hour. This wasn’t a coincidence. Bond had asked a waffle van to be just right here in such an ungodly hour, for Q. 

”You must be kidding me.” Q said again, for the second time of the evening. But Bond just shrugged at him, his smile playful and amused.

Q loved waffles.

They walked up to the van and a woman smiled at them. ”Hello, Mr. Bond.” She said, with a heavy Flemish accent and Q’s eyes widened for a moment. Bond got him pizza made by an actual Italian guy, and now, he had waffles, from a Belgian. He looked at Bond, who, of course, had to engage in a sort of flirty conversation in Dutch with her — Q didn’t know enough Dutch and relied on his German to grasp a few words — before he was being handed some waffles, with enough Nutella on it to make Q grin and thank her profusely.

”Dank je, Anna.” Bond smiled at her, taking his own waffle and then leading Q along the Thames again, ”tot ziens!” He bid her goodbye and Q echoed another tot ziens before biting into his waffle.

”This is absolutely delicious and you’re absolutely mad.” Q chuckled, looking at Bond.

”Mad about you, yes.” 

”You ought to stop saying things like that.” Q said, suddenly stopping and just looked away, catching the scent of the coat again as he stared at the river. ”You don’t need to say them anymore. You’ve made your point, James. I am falling for this. For you.”

He didn’t hear anything from Bond for a moment until he felt arms wrapping around him from behind, and Bond’s chin on his shoulder. ”I will always say them Q, because they are true. I am absolutely mad about you.”

Q’s heart stopped for a brief moment, and it was painful, but the kind of pain that actually made you feel alive. He had never felt so pained before, but at the same time, so excited about being right here, right now. ”This is where we should kiss.” Q chuckled. 

He could feel Bond nod but he didn’t move any more than that. Just because they should kiss now didn’t mean they had to. First because they had Liege waffles — Q recognized them from the sweetness and how they melted in his mouth — and also because this was perfect and they had the rest of the night to kiss. And more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a gift for Fusterya.
> 
> I know you’ve been a bit down yesterday, love, and I hope this will cheer you up. xoxo


End file.
